Madam Longwhiskers
by FRC Coazze
Summary: When Minerva McGonagall is out looking for an anti headache potion, she stumbles into someone who feels far worst then she does.


_This is a quite old story which I have translated and revised, as such it has no pretentions to be a masterpiece or to show perfectly IC characters. Everything you have to do is to enjoy it :)_

_I do not own Harry Potter nor anything related._

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><p><strong>Madam Longwhiskers<strong>

As magical as a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry can be during the day, just as curious it may be when night falls and its corridors are robbed of the lively chatting and chaos of its students and teachers.

When night falls and silence comes along and sleepless ghosts and snoring portraits are the only people you could encounter. It would then be a curious scene to an outside observer: the large dark corridor flooded with the deep breaths of men and women imprisoned in frames, who slept peacefully in their blankets of colour. But the most curious thing would certainly be the old tabby cat with dark signs around its eyes - just like the contour of spectacles – hopping along said corridor. An outside observer would smile at that odd character. The dark walls of the castle, though, had seen it so many times slipping around the castle with the tail erected like a flagpole, the tip slightly curved to one side like a curious hook and the whiskers vibrating. Many times. Because that cat was actually one of the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Minerva McGonagall, to be precise. Professor Minerva McGonagall looking for a bottle of Jigglegraine Potion.

You know, headaches can be a dreadful thing, especially when it wakes you up in the middle of the night and you actually discover you have finished all your spare of potion. And, though stealing from the infirmary's spare might not be the noblest of activities, Professor McGonagall had convinced herself that nothing bad could happen if she borrowed a little bottle of Jigglegraine from Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse. After all, she was a Gryffindor, and the members of Gryffindor's House are renowned for their inclination to mischief.

McGonagall's feline eyes, blinking through the fog of the night like two stars curious fallen from the sky, could perfectly see the line of the stone walls. She could hear the snoring of the many portraits hanging above her.

The barely audible rustle of her velvet paws soon touched the shores of the great lake of darkness that filled the entrance hall of the castle. She stopped then, whiskers nervous, nose sniffing the air. She looked around. Queer... the hall was empty, and yet there was a smell in the air, reaching out to her nostrils like a bony figure of warp and silver. She knew that smell. Potions.

The teacher's anxiety waned: Professor Severus Snape, the Potions teacher, was probably up to something in his dungeons.

_Bah_, she thought, _still __messing about a __cauldron __in the middle of __the night! __The boy __works __too much__. __If__ he keeps going on like that, __he would __reach breakdown __before the end __of the term__. __All right being busy, __but now he exaggerates._ You probably do not know, but Professor Snape took on, in addition to his work for the school supplies, also other commitments for the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters because Professor Severus Snape was a spy for one or the other party, but that is not up to me to enlighten you about. Besides that, Minerva had never heard him saying 'no' to someone who asked him a favour. _I surely have to give a talk to my Slytherin counterpart._

A sudden sharp pain to her temple immediately reminded her why she was there and, main thing, that to stay put in an empty hall while your the head jovially wanders about Nothingland is basically useless.

_Wait a minute!_ A thought flashed in her mind. _If __Severus __is still __brewing__ that __means he is __still awake – unless he is sleep-walking__. __And if __Severus __is still awake – and not sleep-walking –__I have no __reason __in crawling __to the infirmary __like __a __stealthy __burglar cat!_ If her muzzled had allowed her, she would have smiled. She could ask Severus for the potion and would not have risked to be hexed by Madam Pomfrey, for her wrath was far worse than Professor Snape's; probably most of the students would not believe it, but it was the truth. And she could exchange with her colleague the words that have to be exchanged.

Her mind made, silent as only a cat may be, the teacher walked across the hall plunged in total darkness, heading for the stairs which could not be the best place to walk to in the dark but when you can rely upon two yellow cat eyes you do not worry about such things — even though the transformation did not make headaches disappear.

Minerva scampered down the marble steps and quickly turned the corner and it was then that the strange yet known odour acquired a face as well as a name.

"Severus?!" said Professor McGonagall, stunned, staring at the man sitting on the ground like a shadow among shadows. Stunned enough, she was, that she was barely aware to have abandoned the appearance of the old tabby cat to assume those of the strict Transfiguration teacher. Fast enough, the headache was moved to the background.

A blue light suddenly lit up in the dark and Snape whirled toward her, his wand fiercely pointed at the woman that had just appeared out of nowhere. The astonished expression on McGonagall's face grew even more thunder stricken at the sight of his colleague's face. White. Even whiter than usual. Pinched, actually. Carved as the recent victim of the pain's chisels. The wand light distorted his features, yes, but not enough to deny the truth. And those eyes... those black eyes Minerva had seen full of pain, pride, strength, and a good dose of mockery, now only were full of horror and fear. That was not what really took her aback, it was the deep red rings that tears had unmercifully dug into the skin. _No. Severus__ simply did not __cry._ She tried to convince herself. _That is __absolutely __unlike him._ It was hard to the level of impossibility for Minerva to believe that her young colleague was able to cry.

The old teacher's mouth was hanging open quite similarly to her eyes, which glittered even more scintillating at the magic light.

"Severus, what happened?" she finally managed to stutter.

"Good evening, Minerva," Severus' voice was just a barely audible whisper. He lowered his wand. "Heard the sirens' call too?".

Minerva looked at him sadly. She well knew that even when injured the snake remained poisonous and her head really hurt too much to allow her to articulate one of her gibes. The woodpecker in her head managed to tie up her tongue... or maybe was it the sight of the young man sitting alone on a cold stone floor in a dark and empty corridor?

"What's wrong? The _cat_ got your tongue?" Severus teased her with a hoarse voice, lacking, however, of the prickly mordancy of which – to those around him – he seemed to rely upon endless supplies. He looked exhausted, empty... alone.

Minerva sat down next to him, worried. She rested a gentle hand gently on his shoulder, without worrying about the possible reaction of Severus. She expected him to draw away – he never liked physical contact – instead, to her amazement, he did not move at all. This worried her even more.

"What exactly is wrong with _you_?" ventured the teacher, tilting her head to peek beyond the black curtain.

Severus shook his head firmly. "Nothing," he said softly, "it's a problem of mine."

"Headache?", inquired Minerva with a smile, trying to defuse.

Severus looked up at her, not understanding, his eyebrows insomuch curved that they nearly touched each other over his nose. "Pardon me?", he asked, but, alas, received no answer for his former teacher was already formulating a second sentence.

"Come, let's find a more comfortable place to talk. Would you like some tea?" she suggested, trying to sound as natural as possible despite the weight that had fallen upon her heart.

"At midnight?" Severus asked, bewildered.

"Why not?" she said, smiling, happy to see she has been able to motivate him a little bit. "Well? Would you like it?".

Severus sighed, "I don't have much of a choice, have I?".

"I don't think so", Minerva mumbled as she reached out to help him up from the ground. This time – and Minerva was glad - Severus shunned her attempt and rose his wand as soon as he was back on his feet. With the renewed blue light to guide their steps, they climbed the stairs slowly and walked then to Minerva's office.

When they finally reached it, Minerva opened the dark door and invited Severus in, allowing the door to gently close behind them. She did not bother to lit up the candles of the office, since Severus' wand's cold light was enough to illuminate the way to her private quarter, where she led him.

The young man said nothing. He kept his eyes down and seemed hardly to breathe. It had been a long time since Minerva had last seen him like that: since his first years of teaching at Hogwarts, when what had been done to him and what he had done to others wearing a Death Eaters' mask was still very close to him and more vivid than ever. Often, she had seen him like that, it was like if he closed up in another world and was hardly aware of what was going on around him. That, or he just kept attacking verbally everyone and everything. He could actually be quite mean and hurtful when he was like that, he still could be.

Thus her thoughts of past times accompanied them to the living room. Warm, hospitable, much more than the strict office of Professor McGonagall. The tall candles of the chandelier sprang immediately to life as if they had recognise their mistress like faithful dogs, just like the fireplace which roared with festive flames and Severus's wand's light fell asleep in her bed of wood.

"Sit down", Minerva invited Severus kindly.

The Potions Master sneered and sat down mechanically amidst the pillows of the couch, his eyes immediately kidnapped by the flames of the fireplace.

Minerva looked at him in silence for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Severus," she said, "might you kindly tell me what were you doing sitting in a corridor in the middle of the night?". She was not surprise to hear that her voice sounded more like that of a worried mother then of an inquiring colleague. But she truly was worried.

"I'm sorry I've interrupted your evening walk, Minerva. Did I make you stumble?" Severus said, eyes still locked to the fire.

"Nonsense, Severus", said the Transfiguration professor. "Look at you! I assure you, your poor sarcastic attempts won't work with me tonight". She adjusted her glasses on the nose, in the vain attempt to make herself look more distant. She sighed heavily and leaned closer to Severus. The boy was not going to talk to her, she could very well see that. His eyes kept staring at the fire as if they existed only for that. _Had he been summoned by __You-know-who? _She wondered. _H__ad he been tortured__, wounded? It would not__ be the __first time._ Just for a moment, Minerva pondered the possibility of calling for Madam Pomfrey.

"Are you injured?", she asked. No reply.

Exasperated, Minerva reached out for Severus' forearm. Again, the Potions Master seemed to have returned to his usual self since he nearly jumped aside to avoid the contact.

"Severus, talk to me. Are you hurt? Did you go to Poppy?"

_Silly question. __Of course __he did not__: __he __would hammered his own tongue __rather than __tell someone he did not feel good__. _She sighed.

"For the holy underpants of Merlin! Severus, would you just tell me what happened!" she eventually exclaimed exasperated. She was sick worried for him, and all he could do was just—

"Nothing," he finally replied. "Nothing happened".

_Of course_. Minerva knelt in front of him, looking for his gaze to meet hers. The floor was hard and obviously the position was no good for her poor knees, but right now, her bones were the last of her concerns.

"It's something wrong with Albus?" she ventured. Albus was in fact Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the School. To Minerva it was a process of elimination: if it was not about Sirius Black since he died months ago, not about He-who-must-not-be-named… then it had to be the Headmaster. There simply were not other things in this world that could upset Severus that much. _No, not even Mr. Potter_.

Severus shook his head sadly, and McGonagall grimaced. _Yes, __Albus __is at fault; but __Severus__ denies, just as always._

Severus opened his mouth but whatever words he was going to say they died of premature death. "What do you expect me to say?" he asked instead, coldly.

Minerva nodded resolutely. It was the ultimate proof she needed. "It _is_ Albus", she said firmly.

_What do I expect __him to say?_ She thought then, sadly. _Something has obviously happened with the Headmaster, something Severus can not talk about. __He can't tell me, and if I know Albus well,__ no __one __has to know. __What is Albus up to?_ Her thoughts now ran freely along with outrage. _Has he not abused the boy enough?__ There was a time when I thought the Headmaster truly cared for Severus, but now… forcing Severus to keep secrets is like to condemn him to seclusion. The boy needs to talk with people, even if he doesn't want to. And Severus deeply cares for Albus but on the other hand, I noticed it many time by now, he's scared of him, because Albus has the power to hurt him much more than You-know-who ever could. Albus can abandon him any moment. Any moment he can decide Severus is no more of use for the cause._

But Minerva was not Albus. Minerva understood.

She smiled gently at Severus. "I do not expect you to say anything if you don't want to. I just wanted to help, you seemed so miserable", she said almost in a whisper.

Severus' head snapped upward as those warm words sank in.

"Miserable?" he blurted out, his voice suddenly full of the hatred that the old professor knew well. She was accustomed to it and she knew his colleague often addressed it to himself rather than those around him. "Now you hurt my pride, Minerva".

"Oh, I though your pride was long gone since I found you on a stone floor crying like a child!" Minerva answered back, affirmation underlined by an amused smile. But her enjoining of the expression of sheer embarrassment mixed with anger on Severus' face was ruined by the sudden pain in her head as if a thorn had just pierced her brow. She rubbed her forehead in pain.

"Headache?" Severus said, "didn't you take a few drops of Jigglegraine?". _Oh, a__pparently __he has __regained __the __power of speech_ - she thought, - _not that he's__ ever__ been particularly gifted in it__, anyway_.

Professor McGonagall grimaced, while the pain subsided slowly. "I did not. I finished my spare. I was going to get more when I stumbled across an old depressed bat". She said and was please to see the slightest of smiles wrinkling Severus' lips.

"You set aside your headache because of me?" he said then.

Minerva struggled to her feet, then looked at him with eyes full of reproach and kindness. "My dear professor," she said harshly, "whatever you may think of yourself, I am firmly of the opinion that you're at least one step above a headache. Although sometimes you can be just as annoying".

Severus looked up at her. His eyes were ruffled by the same slight smile that gently curved his lips, the dry tears made them sparkle as if touched by a brief, ephemeral breath of life.

Minerva smiled. _Good, at least I managed to cheer him up a little_. She walked away without a word to retrieve the wand she had left on the table and flicked it to summon teapot and tea bag from the cupboard. Clinking of spoons and cups and a wand stroke, and the tea was soon ready. McGonagall poured it still steaming, then made the cups levitate onto the small table in front the couch were Severus was sitting.

She sat down beside her young colleague, lightly took up a cup and two lumps of sugar plunged into it. The spoon followed shortly after, inviting the golden liquid to dance in a hot whirlpool.

"So", Severus began, attracting her attention, "the purpose of your night walk was not to see Weasley in pyjamas. My, my… Professor McGonagall's up to no good," he concluded grinning evilly.

McGonagall glared at him. "I honestly preferred your depressed self", she said but obviously did not mean it. "If I had intended to see Weasley in pyjamas I would not be down in the dungeons", she replied.

"They usually are not where they're supposed to be. He and Mr. Potter", Severus raised an eyebrow, "be grateful they did not stomp on your tail with that Invisibility cloak of them."

McGonagall snorted nervously. "Be grateful they did not see you in the middle of your nervous breakdown", she could swear she had seen him pale at her understatement. "Besides, cats are very perceivable animals, Severus. We don't need eyes when we have _whiskers_". She smiled warmly as she fully enjoy her tea. _And__Severus__should do the__same__, __provided that that grin of his would__allow him to__drink it._

"Come," Minerva said, therefore, "drink. A tea at midnight... you won't have another occasion." She added.

Severus looked at her slyly. "Well, if _Madam Longwhiskers_ says so..."

"Madam Longwhiskers does." Minerva echoed him.

The young man leaned forward and took up the little white porcelain cup with —

"A lion, Severus. It's a lion. Honestly, what did you expect?" Professor McGonagall said smart, peeking over the rim of the teacup like a character jumped out of an old fairy tale, one of those told to Muggle children before bedtime. One of those old cats with dress and apron who chatted amicably with other old wives sipping a cup of steaming tea.

And Madam Longwhiskers was smiling as Severus brought the tea to his lips. _Nightmares __and headaches __are not so different __the end_, she thought. _You could either cure them or tolerate them, but whatever way you may choose be sure to have an old tabby cat who listens to you_.


End file.
